


My Only Love Sprung From My Only Hate

by runawaywithme



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, romeo+juliet!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-09 05:03:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawaywithme/pseuds/runawaywithme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired from the 1996 movie by Baz Luhrmann. We meet the Montagues and Capulets, which are two feuding families, whose children meet and then fall in love. But they know their families won't allow them to be together, so they have to hide their love. We will meet Grantaire and Enjolras in the iconic roles of Romeo and Juliet, the star crossed lovers of Verona.  Since it's based on the 1996 movie, it's actually kind a modern!au.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have really no idea what I'm doing here, and I have no idea if this is even worth a piece of shit. But I hope you will like it, and enjoy everything.
> 
> I have rated it as "mature" for future chapters, and it's also rated "underage" since Grantaire and Enjolras technically are underage in this fanfiction, thou it's never really stated.
> 
> You're very welcome to follow me on Tumblr if you like.  
> http://perksofbeingahomosexual.tumblr.com

 

_Two households, both alike in dignity,_  
 _In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,_  
 _From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,_  
 _Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean._  
 _From forth the fatal loins of these two foes_  
 _A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;_  
 _Whole misadventured piteous overthrows_  
 _Do with their death bury their parents' strife._  
 _The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,_  
 _And the continuance of their parents' rage,_  
 _Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,_  
 _Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;_  
 _The which if you with patient ears attend,_  
 _What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend._

* * *

**Chapter 1**

The car just drove around the streets aimlessly and the sound from the engine was the only noise close by. It was early morning and the three people in the car sat there quietly, each looking out the window next to them and finding only empty streets and closed shops as far as their gaze could reach.

”O, where is Grantaire?” said one of them, a woman, well-dressed with dark hair. She looked worried, searching out the window for her lost son. ”Saw you him today?”  
The woman turned from the window and looked at the young man sitting on the other side of the limousine; he was wearing a colorful shirt and a pair of knee-long shorts. Courferyac had seen Grantaire, the day before. The hour had been early when Grantaire had dressed himself and walked out through the front gate of the grand Montague mansion. This wasn’t anything unusual. Grantaire always woke up early and wandered of, and he returned first when the sun had disappeared behind the horizon. Some days he didn’t leave the house at all. Instead he stayed in his room the entire day with his curtain covering the windows, creating an artificial night where he could drown his sorrows in darkness and in alcohol. But that night, Grantaire never returned to the mansion. His mother had stayed up late, waiting and worrying for her only son, lost in the night.

”My noble uncle, do you know the cause?” Courferyac asked worriedly, looking at the man sitting next to the woman. Whose face was turned towards the window, watching the streets, seeking.

”I neither know it nor can learn of him”, he answered shortly, and the both Courferyac and the woman turned their gaze from the man towards the empty streets instead. The woman placed her hand over her mouth, covering her face.

”Have you tried by any means?” Courferyac asked. His uncle looked at him with a raised eyebrow, almost offended.

”Both myself and many friends, but he keeps it to himself so secret and close”, he said and leaned back in his seat. Courferyac didn’t try to answer him or keep the discussion going. He too leaned back, and gazed out the window again.

 

* * *

 

On the empty pier a lonely figure sat quietly. The young man’s face turned away from the sun which slowly rose in the horizon, only to start yet another day. The man had a cigarette in his hands, which he brought towards his mouth and took a deep puff. The nicotine calmed his senses for a moment and everything he could think about was the smoke filling his empty chest.

He exhaled, and the smoke slowly drifted away in the gentle breeze. He followed the shapes with his eyes, and watched the smoke vanish into the air. He sighed, and then repeated the procedure again. The same procedure he had repeated so many times before during the night. When the cigarette was finished he threw it down on the water below his feet, and watched how the small stump floated around on the face of the ocean.

Grantaire rose from his seat on the edge and started to slowly walk along the pier. He was almost alone, which could be understood since it was the early morning. He hadn’t been sleeping that night. Grantaire had be wandering around the whole day, the whole night and now he stood there, on the pier, watching the endless ocean in front of him. He reached the end of the pier and jumped down on beach below him. He started to wander slowly along the shore, watching his feet leaving marks in the sand. Further up on the beach he could see the first person in many hours, a man opening his stand and getting ready for yet another work-day. Later he noticed an older gentleman who stood a couple of meters away and watched when a young woman in a very tight dress danced, as he considered if he would buy her services or not. Grantaire kept on walking. The ocean looked endless, and for a moment he felt the urge to jump into the water and swim. Swim until his body failed him, swim until he lost the will to keep himself above the surface and disappear forever in the deep, dark sea. Disappear from this life and away from everything he knew.

When Grantaire turned his gaze towards the road a couple of meters further up the beach and saw the well-known limousine come to a halt. One of the doors opened and a young man stepped out of the car. He closed the door behind him and started to walk towards Grantaire. The man had dark hair in a shortcut tousle. He wore a colorful, unbuttoned shirt which flickered in the wind showing off his otherwise bare chest. The man smiled a youthful smile, and approached Grantaire with fast steps.  
”Good morrow, cousin”, Courferyac said and greeted him happily when he reached Grantaire.

”Is the day so young?” Grantaire groaned and threw a gaze at the car which now slowly made its way along the road, away from the beach.

”Was that my father, who went hence so fast?”, he asked and taking a few steps towards the car.

“It was”, Courferyac said casually, and changed the subject.

”What sadness lengthens Grantaire’s hours?”, he asked and followed Grantaire, who had continued his walk along the beach.

”Not having that, which, having, makes them short”, he answered.

”In love?”

”Out--”, Grantaire corrected him.

”Of love?”

“Out of her favour, where I am in love”, he said, and the two started to walk towards a small bar further up the beach, where they had spent many late nights with a drink in their hand and a cue stick in the other. They walked into the bar and as expected Courferyac went straight to the pool table in the middle of the room and picked up a stick. He smiled teasingly at Grantaire, who sighed and approached the table. Courferyac threw a stick at him and he caught it in the air and then leaned against the table, watching the colorful balls placed in the shape of a perfect triangle on the far end of the pool table.

”Tell me, who is that you love?” Courferyac asked curiously.

”Shall I groan and tell thee?” he asked.

”Please do.”

”In sadness, cousin. I do love a woman.” said Grantaire. “And she’s fair I love. From love’s weak childish bow she lives unharm’d. She will not stay the siege of loving terms, nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes. Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold. She is rich in beauty, only poor. She hath sworn that she will live in chaste. She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair.”

They were quiet for a few moments, and Courferyac sent ball number three down one of the holes in the pool table.

”Be ruled by me, forget to think of her.”, he said, missed the next hole by just an inch and groaned loudly.

”O, teach me how to forget to think”, Grantaire complained. Did Courferyac really think it would be this easy to forget? That he could just decide when to stop thinking about someone, and then everything would be right again. Eponine’s face had etched itself in Grantaire’s mind, much like a poison who kept him from thinking about anything but the pain of them never becoming one.

”By giving liberty into thine eyes”, Courferyac stated. “Examine other beauties.”

It’s not that easy, Grantaire thought. When you fall for someone, you become blind to others. Your eyes unable to see the rest of the world, because your world is this one person stuck in your head, poisoning your mind.

”Thou cannot teach me to forget.” he stated and sighed. Courferyac gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder, and the game of pool continued in silence.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on Act I, Scene III

”Enjolras!”  
The sound from the sharp voice echoed through the corridors and halls of the large mansion. The woman shouting wore a severe expression on her face as she with fast steps walked down the main staircase into the entrance hall.

”Enjolras!” she shouted once more and received no answer. She sighed and looked around, noticing the carrying around of chairs, tables, food and decorations. Every little thing that would be essential for the grand masquerade tonight. She stood there for a moment, but then realized where she was, and more importantly, what she was wearing. Just her underwear and a see-through robe provided a lot of raised eyebrows and weird looks. She felt the blood rushing to her cheeks and she made a failed attempt to cover herself up. But the shame was instantly forgotten when she gazed into the grand ballroom left of the entrance hall. She witnessed when they raised the large chandeliers to the ceiling and she gasped in wonderment of their beauty, covered her mouth with her hand. A subtle noise from the elevator a couple of feet away dragged her out of her frenzy and she turned around. When the doors to the elevator opened a large older woman stepped out into the hall.

”Nurse”, shouted the woman and started to walk towards the one who just stepped out from the elevator, looking at her with wide eyes.

”Nurse, where is my son?” the woman asked, sounding annoyed. ”Call him forth to me”

”I bade him to come.” the nurse answered with a carful tone. ”God forbid! Where’s this boy!”

”Enjolras!”, shouted the first woman again and now she made her way up the grand staircase once more, followed by the nurse.

 

* * *

 

 

Silence. No disturbing sound, nothing to interrupt his thoughts. The long blonde hair soared calmly around his head, with an almost hypnotic effect. Small bubbles of air searched their way out of his nostrils and towards the surface above him. Silence, no disturbing sounds.

The illusion of calmness broke when a muffled scream caught his attention. Enjolras threw himself up above the surface and the moment was over.

“Enjolras”, a well-known voice shouted, and the nurse opened the door to the bathroom. He sat there, in the bathtub and smiled at her when she entered. The water running down is face and the long hair pasted against his skull.

“What is the hurry?” he asked calmly.

“Your mother seeks you”, the nurse answered and took a towel from the rack. Enjolras stood up in the bathtub, letting the water run down his bare body. The nurse approached him and started to dry his body with the towel, but he just snatched it from her grip and started to wipe the smooth fabric along his lean figure. When he was dry enough, he stepped out of the tub, which was now drained from water by the nurse. She handed him a robe, and he covered his body. Then he walked out from the bathroom with the nurse following him. She had another towel in her hand trying to reach his head, but Enjolras was so much taller than her, so once again he took the towel out of her hands and ran it through the messy blonde hair. Then the both of them stepped out of his bedroom and into a corridor leading down to the grand staircase. When he reached the top of the stairs he watched as his mother made her way upstairs, but she kept her eyes on her feet so she didn’t notice him. She turned the wrong way and shouted his name towards the other side of the house. He close up behind her and tapped her gently on the shoulder.

“Madam, I am here. What is your will?” he asked and smiled, amused by the situation. His mother turned around and it took a couple of seconds for her to realize it was her only son standing there, in front of her. For a couple of moments they just stood there, looking at each other, but then she gripped his arm and dragged him up the stairs towards his room. Even thou he was taller than her; he had to run to keep up with her long steps as they walked through the corridor. Enjolras was astonished as he watched his mother walking this fast in those high heels. She dragged him into his own room and then let go of his arm. The nurse, who had followed them, stopped in the doorway.

”Nurse, give leave awhile”, his mother said and closed the door right in her face. Then she turned around and met his gaze. They stood there quietly for a moment, and Enjolras waited for her to speak, but she remained silent. Out of the blue she turned around, snatched the door open and dragged the nurse into the room.

”Nurse, come back again”, she said and Enjolras watched her odd behavior, smiling internally. When she once again closed the door she turned at him and smiled dodgy.

”Thou know my son is of a pretty age”, she said and the nurse nodded approvingly. His mother slid the robe down her arms and threw it in the nurse’s face.

“Tell me, my son Enjolras, how stands your disposition to be married?” she continued and smiled at him. Enjolras raised his eyebrow and scanned her face.

“It is an honor that I dream not of”, he answered with a rejecting tone.

”Well, think of marriage now; younger than you, here in Verona, men of esteem are made already husbands. By my count, I was your mother much upon these years. That you are now a master, thus then in brief: The fair Cosette seeks you for her love”, she said. He could tell she was excited, and ignored his remark on marriage. Out of nowhere his mother was suddenly holding a magazine in her hand, and a beautiful blonde girl smiled at him from the cover. Her eyes staring into his, smiling suggestively. She was fair, he couldn’t deny that, but he still didn’t feel encouraged.

“A woman, young boy! Oh, such a woman. As all the world, why, she’s a woman of wax.”, the nurse said behind him and waved her hand in front of her face.  
”Verona’s summer hath not seen such a flower”, his mother continued, trying to read his face.

Enjolras looked at them both with a skeptical expression. He considered marriage a failed institution where love no longer was a necessary denominator, at least not for Enjolras “kind”. Status was everything, and when you decided to get married, your choice of partner seemed to matter more the more money you got in your pocket. Enjolras could instantly see why this girl appealed to his mother’s standards. She was beautiful, desired and wealthy, the perfect combination.

A subtle knock on the door and two maids entered the room. One of them carried a pile of clothes and the other had a dark-haired wig and jewelry in her hands. Both of them made their way to his mother, and helped her to put on a tight, golden skirt.

”What say you? Can you love this woman?” she asked him at the same time as the maids struggled to pull up the zipper. Enjolras remained in thoughts, and stayed silent. Love? What on earth did this have to do with love? He hadn’t even met the girl. His mother turned around and faced the mirror.

”This night you shall behold her at our feast; read o’er the volume of young Cosettes face. And find breathless delight writ there beauty’s pen.” she continued.  
The maids laced a corset tightly around his mother’s torso. It pressed her breast upwards and made the rest of the torso looking suspiciously thin. The corset had the same golden color as the skirt, and together they looked more like one dress, instead of two different pieces of clothing.

”Examine every married lineament. And see how one another lends content, and what obscured in this fair volume lies. Find written in the margent of his eyes. This precious book of love, this unbound lover. Shall you share that she doth possess, by having her, making yourself no less.” she ended her speech.

“No less! Nay, bigger; people tend to grow by marriage.” the nurse joked and Enjolras smiled at her, but his mother took no note of her remark, instead she turned from the mirror and looked at Enjolras.

”Speak briefly, can you like of Cosettes’ love?” she asked him. He remained silent for a couple of seconds to think about it, or at least pretend to think about it.

”I look to like, if looking liking move; But no more deep will I endart mine eye than you consent gives strength to make it fly.” he answered, but before the mother had any chance to answer him a knock on the door made all of them turn around. The butler bowed towards Enjolras and his mother.

”Madam, the guests are come”, he said.

”We follow thee”, his mother answered. The maids placed the dark wig on her head and the mother looked at herself in the mirror. She looked like a flawless interpretation of Cleopatra, at least until she lit a cigarette and inhaled a deep breath of smoke. Then she walked right out of the room without saying anything. The maids and the butler followed her, leaving Enjolras and the nurse in the room. When the door closed the room went silent. Enjolras sat there on his bed. For a moment he felt empty. Not the emptiness he had felt earlier in the tub, this was a different kind of emptiness. He didn’t know what to think, or what to feel. The nurse sat down beside him, and put her around his waist, the other hand rubbing his back in a soothing way.

”Go, boy. Seek happy night to happy days”, she whispered in his ear and he couldn’t help but to smile. But in his stomach, he felt an inkling, an inkling that something unknown were about to happen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: mild drugs
> 
> Act I, Scene IV

Enjolras stood there on the balcony and looked across the impressing garden of the mansion. Lights decorating each tree and all of the bushes, torches were placed from the front gate all the way up to the main entrance. Flashing lights, the sound of pouring water from the fountains and the smooth soul-song playing inside in the ballroom created a calm and peaceful environment.

Enjolras just stood out there; enjoying the moment of silence. The entire day had been full of running around doing different things, meeting people and spending time with his mother. Now, at last, the party had begun and his mother had left to greet the guests. Enjolras was dressed as a French revolutionary. A red jacket covering a white shirt and he had a black tie around his neck. He also wore a pair of a-bit-to-tight black trousers. He usually didn’t like masquerades, or dressing up at all. But at least this time he could choose his own costume. He chose not to do anything about his hair, and just assumed that they could have had this hairdo during the revolution. Now he just had to force himself through the evening, and this would be over soon.

 

* * *

 

 

The beach lit up when the fireworks exploded high above their heads. A loud bang echoed and the sky was now covered with sparks of light. Grantaire was watching this spectacle, hypnotized by the bright lights and the many colors. He found himself feeling calm, feeling peaceful about seeing something this beautiful play out in front of his eyes. The beach was crowded. Carousels, stores and stands were open and people standing in line, chatting and laughing. All of them were in costume; some of them astounded Grantaire by being very impressive and creative. He himself wore a chain-mail and his arms were covered with pieces from a plate-armor.

The brief moment of peace were interrupted when Feuilly in a rush of happiness fired his gun into the air. Grantaire’s thoughts faded and his mind came abruptly back to reality. Feuilly shouted something, but in that moment another firework exploded, and the sound covered his words. Courferyac ran across the beach towards the small group of friends. He wore a monk-robe with a rope tied across his waist.

Both Courferyac and Feuilly threw their hands in the hair and looked further up the beach. A car had just stopped by the side of the road, and a tall figure stepped out and started to walk towards the group.

“Combeferre”, Courferyac shouted happily and laughed at the man closing up. Combeferre danced in the sand, wearing a short silver skirt, a bra in the same color and on his feet a pair of silver high-heels. He wasn’t wearing his glasses tonight, and overall he didn’t look a bit like himself. Combeferre stopped and danced sensually when he almost had reached Courferyac. Everybody laughed, and even Grantaire couldn’t keep himself from smiling when he watched Combeferre run his hands down his thighs suggestively. He continued to dance around the group, and now and then he gave each of them a piece of paper. Combeferre sang along with the music playing loudly across the beach, and his deep masculine voice didn’t fit the clothes he wore at all, which made the whole thing even more amusing. More fireworks exploded above their heads and at last Combeferre danced towards Grantaire on the pier. He lifted his skirt a few inches and showed one of his buttocks. Grantaire couldn’t do anything other than to smile as he watched his best friend having a good time. Combeferre grinned like crazy as he reached under his skirt and pulled out the last piece of paper, and handed it to Grantaire.

 

* * *

 

  
**CAPULET**  
Invitation to costume feast  
 _Combeferre & Friends_  


 

* * *

 

Grantaire read the piece of paper over and over again. His smiles decayed a bit, and Combeferre dragged him to his feet.

”Gentle Grantaire, we must have you dance”, he said but Grantaire released himself from his grip.

”Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes with nimble soles. I have a soul of lead, so stakes me to the ground. I cannot move.” he said, and jumped onto the rock he had previously been sitting on. There he removed the armor from his arms, putting them aside.

”You are a lover; borrow Cupid’s wings and soar with them above a common bound.” Combeferre tried again, not taking a no for an answer. Grantaire sighed, but he was still smiling.

“Under love’s heavy burden do I sink”

Combeferre jumped onto the rock, and now they were standing just inches apart.

”To great oppression for a tender thing”

”Is love a tender thing? It is too rough. Too rude, and it pricks like thorn.” Grantaire complained. Combeferre jumped down on the pier again and raised his arms in the air, pointing to the sky. He began to speak with a loud tone, and people around them turned around to see what all the fuss was about.

”If love be rough with you, be rough with love. Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.” he preached and started to walk slowly round the rock. Then he dragged Grantaire down and started to dance around him. He gripped his arms, and the group started to move to the car Combeferre had arrived in.

”But ’tis no wit to go.”, Grantaire said, and dragged himself loose.

”Why, may one ask?”, Combeferre asked.

“I dreamed a dream last night”

“And so did I”, he said.

“Well, what was yours?”, asked Grantaire.

”That dreamers often lie”

”In bed asleep, while they do dream things true.” he tried. The smile on Combeferre’s lips faded, and he watched Grantaire with a severe expression.

”Oh, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes in shape no bigger than an agate-stone. On the fore-finger of an alderman, drawn with a team of little atomies. Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut, made by the joiner squirrel or old grub. And in this state, she gallops night by night. Thorugh lovers brains and then they dream of love.”

Combeferre made a short pause. His eyes glowed, and he almost looked mental.

“Or lawyers fingers, who straight dream on fees. Sometimes she driveth o’er a soldiers neck, and then dreams he of cutting foreign throats.”

Combeferre spoke even louder now, and once again the people closest to them turned around and watched him curiously.

”This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs. That presses them and learns then first to bear, making them women of good carriage: This is she. THIS IS SHE.”

He cried out the last words, and Grantaire put his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

”Peace, peace, Combeferre, peace.” he said, trying to calm him. ”Thou talk’st of nothing”

Combeferre breathed heavily, and caught Grantaire’s gaze.

”True, I talk of dreams. Which are the children of an idle brain, begot of nothing but vain fantasy. Thick is as thing of substance as the air, and more inconstant than the wind.” he said with a chilly tone. Courferyac walked up to the two of them and placed one hand on each of their shoulders.

”This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves. Supper is done, and we shall come too late.” he said cheerfully, and then he started to make his way to the car. Feuilly followed him, but Grantaire and Combeferre just stood there, watching each-other.

”I fear, too early.” Grantaire said and turned around. He looked at the horizon far away, where the moon now had replaced the sun. ”for my mind misgives. Some consequence yet hanging in the stars. Shall bitterly begin his fearful date. With this night's. revels and expire the term, of a despised life closed in my breast. By some vile forfeit of untimely death. But He, that hath the steerage of my course, Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen.”

Then he turned towards the group again. They had all stopped and watched him. Combeferre held out his hand, with a small pill placed in his palm. Grantaire didn’t even bother to ask what he was given, and he just took the pill and swallowed it.

Then his world broke down. Everything started spinning. Sounds became louder, lights became brighter and a feeling of artificial happiness spread inside his chest. Suddenly he was sitting in the car, and watched the lights flying by as they made their way along the endless streets of Verona. The fireworks covering the skies seemed so much grander and brighter than earlier.

They reached the Capulet mansion, and Combeferre reached out his invitation. The guard examined it, and looked suspiciously at the group. But then he gave Combeferre his invitation back and let the car continue to the parking space.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: being high
> 
> Based on Act I, Scene V

Everything went by so fast. Lights, sounds and people just seemed to whirl around him. Everyone wore colorful costumes and moved fast, too fast. Someone placed a mask on his face; it was a masquerade, after all? He stumbled into the entrance hall and looked around. He could see Lady Capulet, dressed as Cleopatra, dancing through the hall. In one moment, he could swear he saw her kiss a young man, which was known to Grantaire as Montparnasse, her nephew.

“Drugs are quick”, he whispered and then his mind went black again.

When he once again regained enough consciousness to understand what was happening he was standing in the doorway into the great ballroom, gazing out over the entrance hall. At the top of the grand staircase Combeferre was dancing in his short skirt. Grantaire spun around and met Lord Capulet, which grabbed him and said something he couldn’t quite grasp. Capulet kissed the young girl who stood beside him and then disappeared. What seemed like seconds later Capulet was standing on top of the stairs with Combeferre and sang something that sounded like an opera. Combeferre danced down to stairs, grinning widely and stroke his hands over his fake breasts. Grantaire felt once again how his whole world started spinning. He saw Combeferre, Lord Capulet, Lady Capulet, Courferyac, Feuilly, people, masks, costumes and lights. Everything was spinning, spinning fast.

The next time he regained consciousness the surroundings seemed empty. After a couple of seconds he realized his head was under water and that he was on the edge of suffocation. With all his force he placed his hands on the edge of the sink and pushed his head above the surface. He drew a couple of deep breaths and looked around the room he was standing in. The bathroom was very luxurious, both the mirrors and the taps were made out of gold. The marble floor under his feet was heated and when he looked around he realized he was alone in the room. Grantaire watched his reflection in the mirror in front of him. A pair of blue eyes stared back, tired and bloodshot. His hair was wet from being under the water, and Grantaire grabbed the mask and threw it down into the sink.

The entire mood of the party had changed now. The music was calm; a woman with an incredibly amazing voice filled the house with song. Once more, he watched himself in the mirror and ran his hand through the black unruly hair. In the background, he could see a sea of shapes and movement. When he turned around he realized it was an aquarium, filled with fishes in every color of the rainbow. A magnificent display of shades and shapes enchanted Grantaire, forcing him to move closer. Corals and sand, fishes and light moved across the aquarium. On the other side he could see the corridor outside of the bathroom and the realized that the aquarium covered almost the entire wall and was probably just a few feet thick.

Grantaire started to follow the stream of fishes, amazed by their calming effect on his mind. Outside, in the ballroom, the woman was still singing. A beautiful melody, just her and a piano which enhanced Grantaires experience in the bathroom. It was like the fishes danced, moving around with the gentle tones. He began to follow a shoal of blue fishes with his gaze, moving slowly in the water. They swam down towards the bottom of the aquarium so he had to bend his knees to follow them. When they reached the bottom his gaze met something even more beautiful, somehow even bluer that the fishes. A pair of eyes stared back at him from the other side of the aquarium. For a couple of moments he couldn’t stop staring into the eyes looking back at him. Time didn’t seem to matter anymore, and Grantaire couldn’t really grasp how long they were watching each other before they rose up at the exact same time, without breaking eye-contact.

On the other side stood a young man, probably the same age as Grantaire, maybe a year or two younger? He didn’t know why, but he reminded him of Apollo, the Greek god. They watched each other; the other man ran his hand through the wavy blonde hair and smiled. For many seconds they just stood there and stared at each other. Grantaire’s face was filled with amazement, how could a pair of eyes say everything you need to know about a person? How could a pair of eyes wake feelings that never had been there before. A pair of eyes which made him forget everything about Eponine. Everything about everything, really.

The man broke eye-contact and looked down onto the floor, but somehow he couldn’t keep his gaze away, and soon enough they were staring into each other’s eyes again. Grantaire could see the beginning of a smile on the man’s lips and the blonde started to move slowly to the right, as if he wanted to know if Grantaire would follow. He did, and as they slowly walked along the aquarium. When the blonde started to smile again Grantaire just couldn’t hold back, and both of them grinned, watching the other. Looking, smiling and like a game they moved slowly. For a moment Grantaire forgot they weren’t even in the same room, and tried to move closer. He just hit his nose against the window and recoiled, but then the blonde smiled and Grantaire pressed the tip of his nose against the cold window, just to be as close as possible to the other man.

 

* * *

 

Enjolras grinned even wider when the man on the other side of the aquarium pressed his nose against the glass. He turned down his gaze again, but somehow he felt and incredible urge to look again and caught his eye. What was happening? Why did he feel this way? Why couldn’t he keep his gaze away from this man and why on earth couldn’t he stop smiling? It was like everything bad in the world just disappeared, and his heart suddenly woke from a long slumber, beating faster and harder than ever before. He observed the man on the other side of the aquarium, the intense blue eyes, the dark hair and the nose pressed against the pane. He smiled, and Enjolras smiled back. But the moment was broken when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

”Your mother calls”, said the nurse and gripped his arm. She started to drag him across the corridor, but he never looked away from the other man, and stopped after a couple of feet. But the nurse pulled harder and forced him along with her, then he moved around a corner and the dark-haired man was left behind. Enjolras threw glances over his shoulder, to see if the man was following him. He felt warmth in his heart, an excitement and a desire unknown to him. When they were halfway across the room he could see the man coming out into the ballroom and moving fast towards them, and their eyes met again. He was a bit shorter than Enjolras, and dressed as a knight. They smiled again, and the man forced his way through the crowd to get closer. But suddenly the nurse’s grip of his arm was released and he turned around. Right in front of him stood a young woman smiling. He took her hand and greeted her.

“I’m Enjolras Capulet”, he said.

“Cosette Fauchelevent”, she replied and continued to smile.

”Will you now deny to dance?” she asked, and Enjolras mother pushed them both onto the dance floor without giving him a chance to answer himself. Enjolras placed his hand on Cosette’s waist, and suddenly his mother stood beside them again.

”A woman, Enjolras. Such a woman.” she said sensually and waved her feather-fan in front of her face. The woman with the lovely voice was still singing, and Cosette dragged him carefully across the floor and they started spinning around on the dance floor in a smooth rate. Cosette smiled constantly and looked at Enjolras, who himself constantly looked around and met the unknown man’s gaze where he stood a couple of feet away.

 

* * *

 

A rage unlike any other woke like a fire-breathing monster inside of Montparnasse, Enjolras cousin. He stood on one of the balconies, gazing out over the grand ballroom and the many guest. Right now he was looking straight at Grantaire, who were leaning against a pillar, watching the dance floor. Beside Montparnasse two of his friends were standing, and he pointed towards Grantaire.

”This should be a Montague. What dares the slave come hither to fleer and scorn at our solemnity. Now, by the stock and honour of my kind, to strike him dead, I hold it not a sin.” he said and started to walk with determined steps towards to grand staircase. When he reached the top of the stairs he met his uncle, Lord Capulet. He could both smell and distinguish that he was very intoxicated.

”Why, how now, kinsman! Wherefore stom you so?”, he asked happily and attempted to embrace Montparnasse, but he moved out of his reach.

”Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe.” he said, and pointed towards the place where Grantaire was standing. Lord Capulet looked at Grantaire, and recognized him immediately. Then he put his hands on his nephew’s shoulders, caught his gaze and smiled.

”Young Grantaire, is it?” he said.

”Tis he, that villain Grantaire”, Montparnasse hissed and tried to release himself from the uncle’s grip.

”Content thee, gentle coz”, he said calmingly. ”I would not for the wealth of all the town here in my house do him disparagement. There be patient, take no note of him.”

”Uncle, I will not endure him. When such a villain is a guest.” Montparnasse answered and felt how the rage was taking over. But his uncle hardened the grip, and he could feel the large fingers digging into his shoulders, holding him into place. Lord Capulet’s face stiffened and he pressed Montparnasse against the wall.

”He shall be endured.” he said, and slapped Montparnasse across the face.

”Tis a shame”, he tried, but his uncle wasn’t listening.

”You’ll make a mutiny among my guests!” Lord Capulet shouted, and Montparnasse couldn’t contradict him.

 

* * *

 

Below them, down on the ballroom floor, Enjolras still had his hand placed on Cosette’s waist. The other hand in hers and they moved slowly across the floor in gentle circles. Every chance he got he threw a glance over his shoulder towards the man leaning against the pillar a couple of feet away. He watched them, and smiled at Enjolras. Cosette had her eyes fixed on Enjolras, who constantly gazed towards the dark-haired man.

 

* * *

 

”Did my heart not love until now”, Grantaire whispered from his place against the pillar. “For I never saw true beauty until this night.”

He watched as the pair spun around on the floor not far from where he was standing. He never even considered if they were a couple, and if he would have, it wouldn’t have mattered. Grantaire would never forget those eyes, the eyes which had enchanted him and made him feel a way he never felt before. The eyes which somehow managed to erase every single memory of Eponine. The eyes which made her whole beauty fade in comparison. The girl said something, and the blonde man laughed, now he didn’t turn around to meet Grantaire’s gaze as often. But he still stood there, watching them both dancing. But to be honest, he was just watching one of them.

The song faded and the blonde kissed the girls hand, and then threw a glance towards Grantaire. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked down into the ground as the last notes were played and the song ended. The blonde looked at the girl, and then once more at Grantaire. By the pillar, Grantaire waited patiently. He didn’t want anything more than to run over to the blonde, stand next to him, touch him and kiss him. He wanted to be the one holding his hand, the one dancing with him and spinning around on the dance floor.

But instead he was just standing there beside the pillar, waiting for them to separate. Both of them shared a laugh, and applauds broke out when the piano finally played the last note. The singer bowed on the stage and grinned widely. The blonde turned around and joined the crown in applauds, and Grantaire moved to the other side of the pillar to catch a better view of him. He watched as the blonde turned around, looking at the place he had been standing before, noticing he was gone. Grantaire hurried back to his earlier spot and stood there quietly for a moment. The blonde didn’t look back again, and a couple of seconds passed until Grantaire leaned forward and extended his arm towards the blonde man. He grabbed a hold of his hand, and heard as he gasped by the surprise and turned around. Grantaire took his chance as their eyes met and dragged the blonde closer to him, away from the girl, to busy applauding to notice. They now both leaned their back against the pillar without looking at each other.

”If I profane with my unworthiest hand, This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this”, Grantaire whispered. The girl looked over her shoulder, and found the blonde standing further away and she smiled at him. Grantaire wasn’t visible behind him, and when she turned towards the stage again Grantaire met the blondes gaze.

”My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand. To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss”, he said, lifting the blondes hand and kissing it gently. To his amazement the blonde dragged him to the other side of the large pillar, out of sight from the girl on the other side.

”Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much”, he said firmly, but still couldn’t hold back a smile. Grantaire noticed the vague shade of red which appeared slowly on his cheeks when the blonde still held his hand. ”For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch. And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.”

”Have saints not lips; and holy palmers too?” Grantaire asked him and leaned closer to the blondes face. But the other man pulled away before their lips could meet.

”Ay, pilgrim. Lips that they must use in holy prayer.” the blonde replied. They both spoke and at the same time they pulled each other around, further away from the crowd and they were soon out of sight.

”O, then, dear saint. Let lips do what hands do, they pray, gran thou. Lest faith turn to despair.” Grantaire said.

”Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake”, the blonde answered and smiled.

”Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.” he whispered and leaned closer once more. Only a few inches apart he could hear someone shout a name and the blonde turned around. The woman, who had dragged him away from Grantaire earlier, the girl and another woman whose face Grantaire couldn’t see, made their way through the room. It seemed like they hadn’t noticed them yet, but they were getting closer. At that moment the elevator doors opened and the blonde grabbed his hand and pulled him inside the bright lift.

Grantaire saw his chance and leaned forward towards the blonde, and their lips met for the first time. It was like the whole world stopped and they didn’t notice when the elevator doors closed. For a couple of seconds the blonde just stood there, but soon he relaxed and placed his hands gently on Grantaire’s upper arms. Their lips pressing against each other in a gentle kiss, slowly exploring the other’s mouth. Time seemed irrelevant, everything really. There was only now, only this, their bodies pressed against the others and their hearts beating as one. Everything Grantaire could possibly ask for was for this kiss to go on forever and for their lips to never separate.

But there are dreams that cannot be. After God knows how long their lips separated and they opened their eyes which met. Both of them smiled.

”Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.”, Grantaire said.

”Then have my lips the sin that they took”, the blonde replied and grinned even wider.

“Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged”, Grantaire said dramatically. “Give me my sin again.”

Then he kissed him once more. This time it was short and gentle, but none the less incredible.

”You kiss by the book.” whispered the blonde with the tip of their noses pressed together. Grantaire began to kiss his cheek and then moving on down his neck, lips caressing the smooth skin. The blonde was just standing there with closed eyes and he was breathing faster. When the elevator doors opened the blonde grabbed him and dragged him out of the elevator. But before they even managed to exit a voice shouted “Enjolras”. The blonde, who seemed to answer to the name, pushed Grantaire back into the elevator before he could see the person who had shouted the name. Before the doors closed their lips were pressed together once more and the world around them faded. This time the kiss was more passionate. Grantaire’s hands on the blondes lower back, and his hands once again placed on Grantaire’s upper arms. His soft lips against Grantaire’s, his breath caressed his skin as the blonde exhaled. A moment of total perfection. A moment of total serenity.

When the doors once more opened they were forced back into reality. The large, short woman who had dragged the blonde away earlier was standing in the doorway with a severe expression.

”Young master, your mother craves a word with you”, she said sternly and threw a glance at Grantaire. They were still in each other’s arms, and the woman watched Grantaire with large eyes. Then she grabbed the blondes arm and dragged him out of the elevator. The door were about to close when Grantaire finally regained enough sense to follow them. The blonde was halfway up the stairs when he stopped in front of a familiar woman. Then Grantaire realized that this had to be his mother. None other than Lady Capulet herself. The smile faded from his lips when Lady Capulet grabbed Enjolras arm and they made their way up the staircase. The girl from earlier and the large woman followed them.

”Is he a Capulet”, he whispered and took a few steps back.

 

* * *

 

From the top of the stairs Enjolras watched the dark-haired man. He smiled at him, but the smile on the other man’s lips seemed to have vanished. He almost looked frightened where he stood. The nurse now stood beside him and whispered in Enjolas’s ear.

”His name is Grantaire, and he’s a Montague. The only son of your great enemy.” she whispered and the smile on Enjolras lips also faded. For a few seconds they just stood there and watched one another, trying to explain their feelings, trying to figure out the thin line between love and hatred. The nurse grabbed his arm and started to drag him along, but he released himself from her grip and ran alongside the railing. Grantaire’s gaze had followed him, and their eyes met once more.

A young man dressed in drag appeared beside him and dragged him towards the exit. They never broke eye contact, but for every second that passed they were further and further apart until Grantaire disappeared through the front door.

Enjolras ran through the corridors towards a window on the other side of the house. He knew that if he looked through it, he would be able to see the gate where Grantaire soon would pass through. When he reached the window, he opened the glass-door leading out to the balcony outside. The first his eyes caught were the sight of Grantaire’s eyes. Neither of them was smiling, but they watched each other. It was like both of them tried hard to wake the rage and the hatred they both should have felt from the first time. Enjolras failed.

”My only love sprung from my only hate. Too early seen unknown, and to known too late. Prodigious bith of love it is me, that I must love a loathed enemy.” he whispered as he watched the car in which Grantaire was traveling in vanish in the dark of night.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on Act II, Scene I

Grantaire sat in the back of the car, clenching the seat and breathing heavily. Around him his friends laughed and sang a cheerful tune. He took a few deep breaths, desperately trying to ignite the hateful flame his heritage forced upon him. He tried to forget deep-blue eyes, blonde wavy hair and soft lips pressed against his own, but he just couldn’t contain himself. He rose from his seat when the car stopped right before the main gate. He hit the hard ground below and almost fell, but regained balance and started to run towards the high wall which separated him from the Capulet mansion. He began to climb one of the trees beside the wall, and he heard Courfeyrac’s voice shouting for him. When he reached the top of the wall his friend stopped shouting, and he could hear the sound of the car making its way from the mansion.

While climbing, Grantaire cut himself on one of the branches, but the shallow wound felt numb as he heaved his body over the railing. He was now standing on a small terrace, empty and dark. It was quiet. The only sounds Grantaire could hear were crickets hidden in the dark, an owl far away and the distant sound of cars on the small road below. He slowly walked across the terrace and tried to distinguish his surroundings.

When he had walked a few feet the terrace suddenly lit up, and a shocked Grantaire hurried into the shadows to get out of sight. He ran right into a chair which made a loud noise when it hit the marble-floor. Grantaire got a hold of a towel which he covered his body with but realized right away that anyone would be able to see him where he sat. So he ran to the other side of the terrace and pressed against the wall of the house, hidden behind a large statue. He breathed heavily and threw glances towards the windows above him. In the one to the left he could see the shadow of a person behind the white curtains.

”But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?” he whispered to himself and continued to watch as the shade moved around the room inside. Behind him was a fence with wall ivy and he took a firm grip around the wood and started to climb upwards to get a better look.

”It is the east, and Enjolras is the sun.”, he whispered. ”Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she: Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green, And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.”

As he spoke the last words the curtains were pushed aside, and there stood the short, large woman who had dragged Enjolras away earlier. He let go of his grip in surprise and fell down a few feet before retaining his grip of the fence. Luckily, the woman hadn’t noticed him and disappeared from the window. He exhaled in relief, but then he heard a noise from the elevator he had seen around the corner.

”It is my man, O, it is my love! O, that he knew he were!” he said and started to climb down as the doors to the elevator opened. Then he realized that it may not be Enjolras and, since he couldn’t see the person, stopped climbing and pressed against the wall. But he immediately recognized the blonde man as he pressed against the statue which was the only thing separating them. Enjolras still hadn’t noticed Grantaire pressed against the wall, and he looked straight forwards into the dark night with a sorrowful expression.

“Ay, me”, he said quietly. His voice was like the sweetest melody in Grantaire’s ears. Once again he forgot everything about who Enjolras were, and he was sure that Enjolras’s voice was equal to the melody the angels played in heaven. A melody so soft for the ears, that all the worries and cares just dissolve from the body like an exhale. Just these two words made Grantaire shut his eyes, taking in the sweet sound.

”He speaks: O, speak again, bright angel!” he whispered and breathed heavily.

”Oh, Grantaire. Grantaire.” Enjolras said. The dark-haired opened his eyes in shock as he heard the blonde say his name. He threw a glance at Enjolras, to make sure he still hadn’t noticed him where he stood just a few feet away.

”Wherefore art thou Grantaire?” Enjolras continued and started to walk towards the pool further down the terrace. ”Deny thy father and refuse thy name; or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet.”

Grantaire breathed heavily. Was his mind playing a prank, could Enjolras really be declaring his love for Grantaire?

”Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?” he whispered and watched the blonde standing beside the pool.

”'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's a Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face”, he said quietly and bent down towards the clear water. ”nor any other part belonging to a man.”

He smiled at the last words and even though the dim lights Grantaire could notice the shade of red evoke on Enjolras’s cheeks.

”O, be some other name! What's in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet; So Grantaire would, were he not Grantaire call'd, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title.” he continued. Grantaire climbed the last few steps of the fence and started to approach the blonde quietly. Enjolras still sat by the edge of the pool, preaching to the night. He rose from his knees and started to walk along the edge. Grantaire followed him closely, amazed how his hair shimmered in the moonlight.

”Without that title. Grantaire, doff thy name, and for that name which is no part of thee. Take all myself.”, he said, and Grantaire couldn’t contain himself any longer. Without thinking, he leaned forwards, now standing just inches from the blonde man.

”I take thee at thy word:” he whispered and felt how Enjolras solidified. Then the blonde cried out and turned around. His feet slipped on the slick floor and he lost his balance. Grabbing the only thing he could find, Grantaire and Enjolras both fell down into the lukewarm water and a loud splash echoed over the empty terrace. Below the surface all other sounds disappeared. Grantaire searched, and found the blue eyes looking back at his. They swam around in the water for a couple of seconds, just watching each other. For a moment Grantaire considered staying down here forever, but when Enjolras disappeared above the surface Grantaire followed. They breathed heavily and watched each other with water running down their faces and Grantaire dragged his hand through the messy dark hair, squeezing out the water.

”My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words, of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound: Art thou not Grantaire and a Montague?” Enjolras said, also breathing heavily. They swam around in circles, never breaking eye contact.

“Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike.” Grantaire answered.

“How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, and the place death, considering who thou art, if any of my kinsmen find thee here.”

“With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out, And what love can do that dares love attempt; Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.”, Grantaire answered and cried out the last words. Enjolras grabbed him and dragged him below the surface. They swam under the water towards a statue in the middle of the pool, concealing them from windows and surveillance-cameras. A gate opened and a guard stepped out onto one of the balconies. Enjolras stood up and covered Grantaire, who was still under water and hidden partially behind the statue. He smiled an innocent smile, and the guard smiled back. Then he disappeared through the gate at the same time as Grantaire ran out of air and pushed towards the surface. He gasped for air and breathed heavily.

”If they do see thee, they will murder thee.” Enjolras had turned around towards him and looked worried. Their eyes met once more and they swam around in circles again. Grantaire’s hands on Enjolras’s hips and the blonde’s hands on Grantaire’s upper arms. Their faces just a few inches from the others and they moved further away from the lights of the terrace and into the shadows.

”I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight;” Grantaire whispered and smiled. ”And but thou love me, let them find me here: My life were better ended by their hate, than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.”

Enjolras rose and now his whole upper body was above the surface. He still wore his costume, minus the red jacket and the black tie. The white shirt was now see-through and Grantaire watched the well-formed chest through the fabric, resisting the urge to touch him. Enjolras had a thoughtful expression, watching him with hesitation in his eyes. He didn’t say anything, but their faces approached each other. For a few seconds, nothing happened. But Grantaire took the initiative, forcing their lips together. Both of them closed their eyes, kissing gently. He could feel how Enjolras hesitated, and Grantaire pulled away from the kiss. But when Enjolras opened his eyes and their gaze met, both of them leaned forwards and kissed one more. This time Grantaire placed his hands on Enjolras’s cheeks, and the kiss was more passionate. Grantaire could feel how Enjolras removed his hands from his upper arms and moved one of them to his back and the other one to his shoulder. Grantaire placed his hand behind Enjolras’s neck, trying to remove any space separating their bodies like the most important thing was to be as close together as possible, as close as two humans could be. The kiss continued and became more passionate. Enjolras’s hands explored Grantaire’s face and gently caressed his skin. He forced his hand through the dark hair, leaning even closer. During the kiss both of them had seemed to forget to breathe, their basics needs seemed less important when they were together. They separated and both of them took deep breaths, watching the other. Suddenly Enjolras released his grip of Grantaire, pulled away and gazed down.

”Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face, else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek. For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night, fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny. What I have spoke: but farewell compliment! Dost thou love me?” he said and pulled even further away. But Grantaire leaned forwards and kissed him again, as a way to answer his question.

”I know thou wilt say 'Ay,' and I will take thy word: yet if thou swear'st, Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries. If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:” Enjolras said between the kisses and pulled away. Grantaire watched him and smiled.

”Master, by yonder blessed moon I swear, that tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops--”, he began, but was interrupted when Enjolras turned away.

”O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.” he said and began to swim backwards away from Grantaire. Enjolras looked worried, afraid to get hurt. Grantaire tried to find the words, the words explaining the fire burning in his chest.

”What shall I swear by?” he asked. Enjolras was quiet for a moment. They had now reached the edge of the pool, and the same place where they fell just a few minutes ago.

”Do not swear at all; Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, which is the god of my idolatry. And I'll believe thee.” he said and smiled. Grantaire leaned closer.

”If my heart's dear love--”, he said and kissed the blonde once more. They kissed a few times before Enjolras once again pulled away.

”Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night: It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden; Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be. Ere one can say 'It lightens.' Sweet, good night!” Enjolras said and Grantaire slowly caressed his neck with his lips. Enjolras closed his eyes and breathed heavily.

”This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, may prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. Good night, good night!” he continued as they reached the ladder leading away from the pool. Enjolras grabbed the railing and heaved himself above the surface. Grantaire followed him and Enjolras was half-way across the marble-floor when Grantaire reached the top of the ladder, heading towards the stairs leading to the balconies upstairs.

”O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” Grantaire shouted and Enjolras stopped. He slowly turned around, with an empty expression.

”What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?” he asked, seemingly annoyed. Grantaire understood directly what Enjolras thought about and caught his gaze.

“The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.” he said with an honest tone. For a few moments they watched each other before a smile evoke on Enjolras’s face. He slowly walked across the terrace towards Grantaire.

”I gave thee mine before thou didst request it:” he said and their lips met in a deep kiss. Everything happened to fast that Grantaire fell backwards into the pool and since Enjolras’s lips was pressed against his, the blonde was dragged along down into the water. The kiss never stopped, and continued under the surface and their hands caressed the others body.

“Enjolras”

A distant voice from inside the house shouted his name. Enjolras hurried towards the edge of the pool and climbed the ladder. He dragged Grantaire with him and pressed him against the wall, concealed from the windows.

”Three words, dear Grantaire, and good night indeed. If that thy bent of love be honourable, thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow. By one that I'll procure to come to thee, where and what time thou wilt perform the rite; And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay and follow thee my lord throughout the world.” he said quietly and smiled.

”Enjolras”, the voice cried out again.

”By and by, I come:--”, Enjolras shouted and then he turned towards Grantaire. ”But if thou mean'st not well, I do beseech thee—“

“Enjolras!”

“By and by, I come:--“, he answered once more and walked towards the stairs.

”To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief: To-morrow will I send.” he said and started to walk slowly to the balconies.

”So thrive my soul--”, Grantaire whispered and Enjolras smiled. Then he ran up the last few steps of the stairs and Grantaire followed him with his gaze. Enjolras leaned down and Grantaire could contain himself, so he once again climbed the fence with the wall ivy. When he reached the railing and Enjolras their eyes met.

”A thousand times good night!” Enjolras said and smiled. Grantaire leaned forward and kissed him. A door leading out to the balcony opened and a woman came outside.

“Enjolras”, she shouted, and then returned inside without noticing what was going on outside.

”Enjolras”, she shouted once more, from inside the room. Grantaire had jumped down onto the terrace again and hid in the shadows. Their eyes met one last time, and Enjolras smiled before he disappeared behind the corner. Grantaire just stood there for a moment, watching the spot where Enjolras was standing a few seconds ago.

”Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their books, But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.” he whispered and turned around. But then he heard a door open and Enjolras shouted his name. Grantaire turned around and on one of the balconies Enjolras stood and smiled at him.

”At what o'clock to-morrow shall I send to thee?” he asked quietly, but loud enough for Grantaire to hear him.

”At the hour of nine.” he said and smiled back.

“I will not fail: 'tis twenty years till then.”, Enjolras sad and smiled. Once again the urge grew to strong. He ran towards the wall ivy and climbed the fence faster than ever. The blonde bent down and removed the necklace from his neck. When Grantaire reached the top of the fence Enjolras dropped the necklace which fell right down onto Grantaire’s palm.

”Good night”, Enjolras said, smiling. Then he stood up and Grantaire made his way down onto the terrace again. He ran across the marble floor towards the wall which he climbed earlier. Just when he was about to start climbing down he turned towards Enjolras and their eyes met once more.

“That I shall say good night till it be morrow.” Enjolras whispered as he watched Grantaire disappear into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this was nice. I'm sorry for a late update, I have SO MUCH TO DO IN SCHOOL RIGHT NOW. Well, I would love to hear what you guys think so far. Thank you so much for reading, I love every single one of you <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on Act II, Scene III

”O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities: For nought so vile that on the earth doth live. But to the earth some special good doth give, Nor aught so good but strain'd from that fair use. Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse: Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied; and vice sometimes by action dignified.”  


Father Laurence stood by the low-set bench and held a small branch in his hand. The branch consisted of one single leaf and the base was round and surprisingly heavy. He threw a glance towards the two choir-boys by his side. Their eyelids heavy and from time to time they yawned. The day was young and the sun had not yet raised high above the horizon. Father Laurence held the root of the small herb to the light of the sun and was handed a small but sharp knife. Carefully, Father Laurence stroke the sharp blade against the base and a whitish pus started to seep out of the cut.  


” Within the infant rind of this small flower. Poison hath residence and medicine power: For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part; Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart. Two such opposed kings encamp them still, in man as well as herbs, grace and rude will; And where the worser is predominant, Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.”, he told the boys and looked down just as one of them rubbed his eyes. He smiled at them and placed the herb down on the bench.  


“Good morrow, father”, a voice was heard from above. All of them gazed out of the skylight and met a familiar face.  


”Benedicite”, Father Laurence cried out and smiled. He turned around and looked at the choir boys.  


”What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?” he said and patted them on their shoulders. They thanked him for their lesson and walked out of the greenhouse. Both of them greeted Grantaire, who had made his way down and walked through the door.  


”Young son, it argues a distemper'd head, so soon to bid good morrow to thy bed”, Father Laurence said. He turned and looked at Grantaire. ”Or if not so, then here I hit it right, our Grantaire hath not been in bed to-night.”  


He was right. Grantaire had not slept that night. When he left the balcony he had walked the empty streets of Verona until the sun rose in the eastern sky. Then Grantaire had jumped in his car and raced down to the grand church in the middle of the city.  


”The last is true”, he confirmed. “the sweetest rest was mine.”  


Father Laurence raised an eyebrow and looked shocked.  


”God pardon sin! wast thou with Eponine?”, he exclaimed. Grantaire stood still for a moment, uncomprehending. In just a few hours, every memory and recognition of Eponine’s existence were gone.  


”With Eponine, my ghostly father? no; I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.”, he said, and both of them exited the greenhouse and made their way down the narrow stairway down into the church.  


” That's my good son: but where hast thou been, then?”, Father Laurence asked as they reached a well-lit corridor.  


”I have been feasting with mine enemy, where on a sudden one hath wounded me. That's by me wounded: both our remedies within thy help and holy physic lies:”, he answered with and exalted tone. Father Laurence stopped and turned around.  


” Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift; Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.”, he said firmly and then continued to walk along the corridor.  


” Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set on the fair son of rich Capulet:”, Grantaire started, and once again Father Laurence stopped and watched him with staring eyes. Grantaire continued telling him with a dreaming voice of the night before. ”We met, we woo'd and made exchange of vow, I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray, That thou consent to marry us to-day.”  


Father Laurence stood there silently for a moment with a blank expression.  


”Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here!”, he exclaimed and again started to walk towards the chapel. ”Is Eponine, whom thou didst love so dear, so soon forsaken? young men's love then lies. Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.”  


He stopped in front of a large statue of the Holy Virgin Mary, and bowed.  


”Thou chid'st me oft for loving Eponine.”, Grantaire said in his defence, and he to bowed towards the statue.  


”For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.”, Father Laurence answered shortly.  


”I pray thee, chide not; she whom I love now. Doth grace for grace and love for love allow; The other did not so.”, Grantaire said and helped Father Laurence to put on his cassock. Inside the chapel the choir sang and their beautiful melody filled the whole church.  


”O, she knew well. Thy love did read by rote and could not spell.”, Father Laurence said and continued dressing himself. When he finished, he stared into the nothingness and gasped.  


”For this alliance may so happy prove, To turn your households' rancour to pure love.”, he said quietly. Then repeated himself once more, so Grantaire could hear him. The words felt like a thousand doves flying from his heart when Grantaire heard the words. It would happened. He and Enjolras would be married.  


”O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste.”, he said and started running through the hallway. He slipped on the smooth marble floor and overturned a large candelabra made out of massive gold.  


”Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.”, Father Laurence said and sighed.  


Grantaire rose from the floor, picked up the fallen candelabra and continued to make his way through the corridor. Inside the chapel, the choir’s song became louder, and Father Laurence entered the chapel. The service was about to start.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Act II, Scene IV

Kapitel 7

The gentle breeze caressed his skin and a welcome change from the scorching sun. He had his phone to his ear and listened when the call reached voicemail. He sighed, hung up and turned to Combeferre, who stood beside him.  


”Where the devil should this Grantaire be?”, an annoyed Combeferre said and started to walk across the street and down onto the beach. ”Came he not home to-night?”  


”Not to his father's.”, Courfeyrac answered and followed him. ”I spoke with his man.”  


”Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Eponine.”, Combeferre muttered and kicked a small rock on the side of the road and watched it when it flew across the beach. ”Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.”  


”Montparnasse, the kinsman of old Capulet, hath sent a letter to his father's house.”, said Courferyac and Combeferre turned around. He looked at Courfeyrac severely and then smiled.  


”A challenge, on my life.”, he said and continued the walk down the beach.  


”Grantaire will answer it?”, Courfeyrac asked.  


“Any man that can write may answer a letter”, Combeferre answered and Courferyac sighed.  


“Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he dares, being dared.” he continued.  


“Alas poor Grantaire! he is already dead;”, Combeferre exclaimed and the pair started to wrestle playfully on the beach. Combeferre grabbed Courfeyrac’s wrist and pressed it against his back. Then put his finger against Courfeyrac’s forehead, with the hand shaped like a gun.  


”Stabbed with a white wench's black eye; shot through the ear with a love-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft:”, he said and kicked Courfeyrac in the butt, who then turned around and they watched each other with a playful smile.  


”And is he a man to encounter Montparnasse?”  


“Why? What is Montparnasse?” Courfeyrac asked flippantly.  


”More than prince of cats, I can tell you”, Combeferre answered and pulled out his gun. He started to spin it around his finger and continued his speech.  


”O, he is the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and proportion; rests me his minim rest, one, two, and the third in your bosom, the very butcher of a silk button.”  


He let the gun rest on the top of his hand and looked straight into Courfeyrac’s eyes. Suddenly he jerked his hand upwards and the gun flew into the air. On the way down Combeferre caught is gracefully and took a leap towards Courfeyrac and once again grabbed his wrist and now placed the real gun against his forehead.  


”A duellist, a duellist”, he said and took a few steps back från Courfeyrac, who also pulled out his gun. At the same time both of them started to spin their weapons around their finger.  


”A gentleman of the very first house, of the first and second cause:” he smiled and both of them smiled. Then they threw their gun into the air, caught them in their hand and pointed the towards the other.  


”The punto reverso! The hai!”  


Combeferre laughed out loud, but something else caught Courfeyrac’s gaze.  


”Here comes Grantaire,” he said and Combeferre turned around. Further up the road they saw Grantaire’s well-known shape step out from his car. They both put their weapons away and Courfeyrac shouted Grantaire’s name. When they reached him he closed the door to the car and grinned at them. They greeted each other with hugs and fist bumps, then Combeferre sat down on the hood of the car.  


”Grantaire, bon jour! There's a French salutation to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.” he said and then jumped down from car almost definitely. He started walking down the beach, then Courfeyrac and Grantaire hurried after him.  


”Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you?”, he answered happily, and placed his hand on Combeferre’s shoulder, but he pulled away from Grantaire. Still smiling, Grantaire ran after his friend across the warm sand.  


”The ship, sir, the slip; can you not conceive?”, Combeferre shouted while being chased by Grantaire.  


“Pardon, good Combeferre”, he answered and finally caught up with Combeferre. He grabbed both of his shoulders and slowed him down. He made his way in front of his friend and walked backwards in a fast pace, facing his friend.  


”My business was great; and insuch a case as mine a man may strain courtesy.”, he said and reached a tattered merry-go-round where the rest of their small group was sitting.  


”That's as much as to say”, Combeferre answered, seemingly annoyed, but at the end of the sentence he couldn’t resist to be affected by Grantaire’s wide grin. ”such a case as yours constrains a man to bow in the hams.”  


By the last words the group were laughing. ”Thou hast most kindly hit it.”  


”A most courteous exposition.”, Grantaire answered.  


”Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.”, Combeferre said with a feminine made to tone.  


“Why, then is my pump well flowered.”, Grantaire said and another laugh broke out. Combeferre ran towards Grantaire and they wrestled playfully. Grantaire ran away across the sand with Combeferre right behind him. By the merry-go-round the group was laughing and cheering at the two of them, shouting their names. Combeferre caught up with Grantaire and tried to wrestle him down onto the ground. Both of them laughed and Grantaire managed to get Combeferre on his back down in the sand. Their eyes met and Grantaire smiled at the wild look in Combeferre’s eyes as he tried to break out of Grantaire’s hard grip of his shoulders. Suddenly Grantaire gazed upwards, and then stopped pushing Combeferre down. He watched the woman in the red dress right in front of him and the smile on his lips was replaced with a confused expression. Combeferre released himself from Grantaire’s grip and turned to look at the woman. She was short and broad, wearing a dark-red dress with a matching umbrella. He wore glasses, and by the look on the face they could tell she wasn’t very impressed by their display of friendship.  


”God ye good den, fair gentlewoman.”, Combeferre said and leaned against Grantaire. The woman took no notice of him and looked at Grantaire instead.  


”I desire some confidence with you.”, she said and pointed at Grantaire while saying ”you”. Without a word Grantaire walked away from Combeferre and the short woman followed him. When they walked further and further away Combeferre shouted at Grantaire, seemingly confused by the situation. Grantaire continued to walk and Combeferre turned around, making his way back towards the group by the merry-go-round.  


Grantaire and the woman walked during silence away across the beach. He thought about saying something, men he couldn’t figure out what. He knew exactly who the woman was as he recognized her from the masquerade last night. It was her whom had dragged away Enjolras from him twice. His nurse, Grantaire figured. The group of friends shouted for them as them moved away from them. Grantaire heard his name being called several times, but he didn’t turn around. But when he heard a gunshot being launched into the air he turned around, facing his friends. A couple of feet away Combeferre stood there with his gun in the air and a puff of smoke dissolving from the pipe. He watched his friend with an empty expression and their eyes met.  


”Will you come to your father’s house tonight”, Combeferre shouted with an insecure smile. Grantaire threw a glance at the woman, who just stood there, quiet. She looked like if she thought about all the places in the world she would rather be than here with him. Grantaire took a few steps towards his friend.  


”I will follow you.”, he said as he stopped. They stood there quietly and watched one another for a few moments. Then Grantaire and the woman turned around and continued to walk.  


”Farewell, ancient lady”, he heard Combeferre shout as the group made their way towards the cars up on the road. Grantaire went along in silence for a few more moments before she grabbed his arm and turned him so he was facing her.  


”If ye should lead him into a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross kind of behavior”, she said with a threatening voice. Her facial expression was severe, and the grip of his arm would certainly leave some sort of mark.  


”For the master is young; and, therefore, if you should deal double with him, truly it were an ill thing, and very weak dealing”, she continued and almost hissed the last words. Grantaire understood her worry and now saw the nurse in whole new light. He placed his hand on her shoulder and caught her gaze.  


”Bid him to come to confession this afternoon”, he said and felt as the grip of his arm lightened. “And there he shall at Father Laurence' cell”  


He made a short pause, and then smiled. ”Be shrived and married.”  


By the last words the nurse couldn’t hold back a smile. She just nodded and then suddenly leaned forwards and kissed him on his cheek. He smiled back at her and then just grabbed her umbrella and watched away from Grantaire, heading for the road.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Act II, Scene V

Enjolras hurried down the steep staircase he walked down countless times before. He entered the small apartment constructed in the mansions basement and met the sight of his nurse’s behind. The rest of the body was halfway into the refrigerator, searching for food. When she heard him rushing down the stairs she turned around and met his gaze. Then she just turned around nonchalantly and returned for her search.  


” O honey nurse, what news? Nurse?”, Enjolras said and caught his breath. He had been running all the way down from his room, which was placed in the other side of the large house. The nurse turned around again and watched him with a tired face.  


”I am a-weary, give me leave awhile”, she said and the smile on Enjolras’ lips faded away. ”Fie, how my bones ache! What a jaunt have I!”  


The nurse pulled a plate full of sandwiches out of the fridge and closed it with her foot.  


”I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news”, Enjolras said impatiently. “I pray thee, speak.”  


The nurse placed the plate on a small table beside a large armchair.  


”What haste? Can you not stay awhile? Do you not see that I am out of breath?“, she said and Enjolras recognized the scene. This wasn’t the first time this happened. This was a dance, a game Enjolras knew too well.  


”How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath to say to me that thou art out of breath?”, he said and smiled. The nurse grinned back at him.  


”Is the news good, or bad? answer to that;”, he continued with an impatient voice, regretting the tone. Without answering she sat down in the armchair with a deep sigh. Enjolras pulled out a chair at sat down in front of her.  


”Well, you have made a simple choice”, the nurse said and grabbed a cup of tea placed beside the plate. ”You know not how to choose a man.”  


Enjolras smile faded once again and he looked at her with an empty expression. He analyzed her words, trying to claim an answer to his question.  


”Grantaire! no, not he; though his face be better than any man's”, she continued and Enjolras couldn’t help but to smile at the image of Grantaire’s face that flashed through his mind. ”Yet his leg excels all men's; and for a hand, and a foot, and a body.”  


After she spoke the last words she laughed and the Enjolras’ smile grew larger. He laughed with her, and the nurse put the cup of tea down and instead grabbed one of the sandwiches.  


”But all this did I know before.”, Enjolras said once more with the same impatient tone. ”What says he of our marriage? What of that?”  


The nurse took a large bite of the sandwich, leaving Enjolras waiting for her to finish the bite before answering.  


”Lord, how my head aches! what a head have I! O, my back!”, she complained once she finished chewing and Enjolras rolled his eyes. He leaned back but then rose from his chair. He climbed over the armchair and sat down behind her on the backrest. He placed his firm hand on her back and started to massage her back.  


”Other' other side”, she said and Enjolras pressed his hand harder against the other side of the back.  


”O, my back”, she exclaimed, and he knew he were on the right path. He knew this was a game, a dance. He knew he was on the right path to get her to talk. All these years together they had developed a bond much stronger than he had with his parents.  


”I' faith, I am sorry that thou art not well.”, he said consolatory, still rubbing her back with a firm hand. This wasn’t the first time he did this, and probably not the last. He leaned forward and kissed he cheek, then placing his hands on her shoulders. He giggled and he placed his arms around her, hugging her from where he sat.  


”Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love?”, he asked with his nose pressed against her chin. She placed her hand on his cheek.  


”Your love says, like an honest gentleman, and a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, and, I warrant, a virtuous”, she started and Enjolras listened eagerly to every word. But suddenly she turned around and looked into his eyes.  


”Where is your mother?”  


”Where is my mother!”, Enjolras repeated frustrated.”How oddly thou repliest! Your love says, like an honest gentleman, Where is your mother?”  


The nurse rose up and Enjolras slid down onto the seat.  


” O my dear boy! Are you so hot? Henceforward do your messages yourself.”, she said and walked across the room towards the stair leading up to the house.  


”Here's such a coil!”, Enjolras said and walked after her. The nurse climbed the staircase fast, and Enjolras stopped at the bottom. ”Come, what says Grantaire?”  


The nurse stopped and turned around. She sighed, and looked tired. They were quiet for a moment and just watched one another.  


”Have you got leave to go to confession to-day?” the nurse asked suddenly and slowly started to walk down the stairs.  


”I have”, Enjolras answered, surprised and confused by the question. Now the nurse stood just a few inched from him. A smile appeared across her face and she couldn’t hold it in any longer.  


”Then hie you hence to Father Laurence' cell;”, she said and grinned even wider.  


”There stays a husband to make you his”, she contined and with the last words Enjolras screamed out loud and embraced the nurse.


End file.
